


Trouble

by dara3008



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandit Leader Tony Stark, Banter, Dubious Consent, I feel like that's an important tag for those two, M/M, Outlaw Tony Stark, Pre-Slash, Sheriff Clint Barton, Snippet, Song Inspired, Western Robin Hood, but really by the video, it's just a kiss but to be sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dara3008/pseuds/dara3008
Summary: Sheriff Barton finally has Outlaw Tony Stark in his cell for good. Or does he?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48
Collections: Assassin Twins + Tony





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a prompt request and I quote:  
> "Can I request a fic from you, when you find the time and motivation to write one? I wanna fawn over sheriff Hawkeye and want Tony as the outlaw. I may have listened to trouble by pink and it jogged my memory." 
> 
> The fabulous idea came from my friend, because Jeremy Renner in eye-liner and a cowboy outfit is just sin. And who doesn't love Tony as an Outlaw?
> 
> See endnotes for that dubious consent warning.

Clint Barton was slumped in his chair with his boots on his desk as he waited for the man in his cell to wake up. The bandit leader had been unconscious for about 40 minutes, so he was due to rouse soon. In ‘sleep’ he looked almost innocent, Barton thought with a twist to his lips. Oh, but he knew better. He leaned forward and tapped his fingers against the desk impatiently. This was taking too long. Swinging his legs down, he stood, grabbed the jug of water and swiftly tossed the content over his prisoner. 

Tony Stark sputtered awake, hand moving to the gash on his forehead, where Deputy Romanoff had hit him with the butt of her rifle. He hissed out a curse and looked around, stilling when he noticed Barton leaning against the bars. “Sheriff.” A grin quickly blossomed on his tanned face. “Come here often?”

With a snort, Clint leaned his side against the metal and raised his eyebrows. “Almost as often as you do, Stark.”

“You know, I’m only here to see your pretty face.” The bandit batted his eyelashes, as he sat up straighter. His hands were bound in front of him and Clint would lie if he said that his slightly sadistic side didn’t relish in the sight. “How are you on this lovely day? Any plans?”

The sheriff returned the grin with a sharp one of his own. “Hmm. Aside from organizing your hanging, nothing in particular.”

Barked laughter was his initial answer and Stark only leaned back against the stone wall, as calm as ever. “I do so enjoy our banter, don’t you? I’m sure you would miss me dreadfully.”

“It would mean much less work for me, that’s for sure.”

“And so much more boredom.” 

They stared at each other for a while, both with raised eyebrows, both assessing. That’s how it always was between them, whether it was on the backs of their horses, across different sides of train tracks, or like this, with Tony behind Clint’s bars. “I would stop playing games. You’re not escaping this time, Stark,” Barton almost whispered, a glint in his eyes. “You were betrayed by your people. They practically tossed you in front of this building. There’s no one coming to rescue you.”

Something hard entered Stark’s eyes, steel and fire. “I’m more than my people, Sheriff. You should know that by now.” A tremor in his voice betrayed the uncertainty, but he only tensed his shoulders and morphed his expression back into a carefree grin. “Underestimating me is always a mistake.” Clint huffed and narrowed his eyes when Tony stood up and approached him. “But you like making mistakes, don’t you, Sheriff?” The bandit… _purred_. “I, myself, enjoy making some mistakes immensely.” He underlined his words by raking his eyes slowly over Clint’s whole body, bound hands rested against the metal between them. 

Something hot spread through the sheriff’s chest as he observed Stark. The hooded blue eyes, his dishevelled hair falling into his forehead, his dark skin streaked with mud from his arrest. That damn grin, filthy and oddly charming at the same time. Stark slowly licked his lips and Clint’s eyes involuntarily followed the gesture. “Mistakes,” he mumbled, leaning a little closer. Tony’s pupils seemed to dilate right before his eyes, and his grin spread. The sheriff’s own grin widened, but it was streaked with a mean edge. “Like trusting your people.” 

“Ugh.” With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Tony leaned back again. “You’re _such_ a buzzkill,” he drawled as he ventured back to his cot, to slump down. “Too bad I can see that I’ve made an impression, anyway.” When Barton’s eyes widened and he quickly looked down to check, Stark let out a wheezing laugh. “Hah! Made you look. Thank you for proving me right, Sheriff.”

“Dirty bastard,” Barton mumbled as he made his way back to his desk. Tony only sniggered and then started singing, his voice rough and far from perfect, but oddly pleasant. 

Clint’s heart was hammering in his chest and he checked the clock with a grimace. Stark’s been dumped in front of the office about an hour ago, by his partner James Rhodes, no less. No doubt taking his title of leader in the process as the group hadn’t even collected the hefty reward that was on Stark’s head. Then again, Rhodes had Wanted Posters of his own, so maybe that had been caution on his part. 

Stark kept singing for the better part of an hour, alternating between slow ballads and songs meant for late nights at a campfire. Barton almost enjoyed the company, slowly going through the necessary paperwork. But the more he thought about it, the less enthused he was about seemingly catching the man for good. 

The hanging would have to be public. Not because the people demanded it, but because they _didn’t_. Stark would have to be made an example; the townsfolk liked the bandit too much, they had to see that outlaws were to be punished, not celebrated. 

Something didn’t sit right about the idea of Stark hanging, though. The man had been a constant pain in Barton’s ass for about a decade now. They had _inside jokes_ , for God’s sake. If asked at gunpoint, he would admit that he _liked_ him. From an outsider’s perspective, Clint understood why the people liked the bandit group, as well. They didn’t destroy anything in town, didn’t inconvenience the townsfolk in their everyday life, and regularly gifted them with gold coins hidden in their homes. 

Tony Stark, the Robin fucking Hood of the West. 

The council of towns had been clear, though. Whichever Sheriff caught him, he was to hang. Publically. It left a sour taste in Clint’s mouth. 

“What crawled up your butt?” Stark sounded bored, fingers tapping against his own thighs, where they were lying in his lap. “Scary frown.” Before Barton could answer, the cuckoo clock chimed the full hour. Tony clapped his bound hands against his legs and got up. “Whelp. Time to leave, I’m afraid.” 

“What?” Frown deepening, Clint stood from his chair... only to be rocked backwards by the loud detonation of the wall. “What! Stark!” Tony had jumped back too and was grinning from ear to ear as Rhodes sauntered in, black coat making a dramatic entrance. “Stark, no!”

“Did you have fun on your playdate?” Rhodes asked, as the sheriff frantically started to grab for his keys. 

Stark laughed, low and happy, hands stretched outward for his partner to cut open. “I have actually, you know I always enjoy the dear Sheriff’s company.”

“Little too much, if you ask me.” Barnes, another member of the bandit group huffed, as he gently checked the gash on Tony’s head. “Off we go?”

“One second.” Just as Barton managed to open the cell door, Stark stepped up to him and swiftly grabbed his arm, throwing it against one of the bars. A click and a handcuff was thrown on him, the counterpart up against the metal. Before he could yell for help a bruising kiss was pressed against his lips and Clint sucked in a breath. “You owed me a kiss, Sheriff.”

“Tony, seriously.” Rhodes hissed, as he grabbed his partner’s arm, while Barnes only chuckled at the sheriff’s shocked expression. “I’m sure Romanoff and Hill are on their way, come on.”

“Bye, Sheriff. Till next time!” Stark crooned as he was pulled out of the hole in the wall. Barton heard the unmistaken sound of horses galloping away and let out a loud curse. Not a minute later, Natasha rushed into the office and echoed his curse as she saw the handcuffs on him. 

Clint could only stare. “What the fuck just happened?”

“They tricked us!” She seethed, red hair wild on her head. “Stark was a fucking distraction while Rhodes and Barnes lead a train robbery. We came too late.”

Eyes wide, Barton’s gaze moved to the hole in his cell. It seemed Tony was a better actor than he had given him credit for. _Underestimating me is always a mistake._ “Son of a bitch.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, technically the handcuffs used back in the Wild West wouldn't be as easily applied as modern once, but sssshh.
> 
> Dubious Consent warning:  
> There's a kiss, that wasn't consented, though the characters have a history of UST. Clint is not aversed, just a little shocked.  
> But if that's something that might trigger you, maybe sit this one out. Stay safe!


End file.
